Some small respite

[Amaranta Bastillo]

Lucca, Monte San Quirico
9:00AM

Another day off classes - another day in-town with Bedwyr. She needed a goddamn break.

Why wasn’t she giving herself one?

Oh. Wait. She was.

Emma was this close to sprawling herself all over the table, and would have, if it didn’t mean planting her face in a cup of steaming-hot cappuccino. And although it doesn’t quite measure up to being stabbed, she can still imagine it’d be exceedingly unpleasant, not to mention a waste of five euros. So she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. That’d be silly. And nonsensical.

Everything about her life was bordering on the nonsensical.

But she was digressing.

She had, in an effort to recover from the ordeal of the night before, decided to go have some tea, or coffee. Or just, you know, something normal, and routine. She finds herself at this lovely little café as a result; ‘Un Nome Straniero’, where she was almost a regular, except none of the employees actually recognized her. Things weren’t exactly going to plan.

Although not a particularly large or famous establishment, there were usually enough patrons to keep the numerous waiters busy, and Emma, usually with her laptop propped up, or notebook open, most of the time sitting in a corner whenever she paid the cafe a visit (possibly surreptitiously sketching the other customers), didn’t particularly stand out either.

Today was would’ve been no different.

Except for one glaring discrepancy staring her in the face.

She tried to ignore that silvery gaze boring into her, as she lifted the cappuccino to her lips, reading the digital copy of the day’s paper (‘TERROR IN TORRE ALTA’ was emblazoned on the headlines). It wasn’t working in the slightest.

The ceramic made a clear tinkling sound as she set the cup back onto its plate, the beverage never actually reaching her mouth.

“You didn’t have to accompany me out, you know,” she places a hand on her chin, leaning over the table, making a large, sweeping gesture with her other, speaking just above the background noise,“Look, I’m perfectly safe here,” she told herself that not even the crazies from the past couple of days were going to attack in broad daylight, and she even tried to believe it, “Can’t you just... go… do…”

She trailed off, not knowing how to finish her sentence.

Every single waking moment seemed to be invaded by this infernal ‘Grail War’ now, and she couldn’t escape it no matter how hard she tried – a large part of it owing to the fact that Bedwyr insists on following her around everywhere like a puppy; a magical, armed, dangerous, stupidly destructive six-foot-tall puppy. let’s visualize that for a moment.

But it wasn’t just him. It was Matt, the strange fellow she met at the church, the priest himself, the condo from the night before… Merlin… And, most significantly, the face-changer and …it’s ‘Servant’. And she still knew barely a jot more than when Bedwyr stepped out of the circle, except there were people trying to kill her now – and almost succeeded too.

There was a sudden urge to probe her shoulder, and she flexed it – the wound had closed. Merlin himself- she let her mind explore the concepts that word entailed for a few brief moments – healed it closed. There was hardly a clue it had even existed in the first place.

“Can’t you,” she tried again, measuring her words, “I don’t know. Be less…”

Be less what? Clingy? In-her-face? Archaic? …Chivalric? Would it be too much to ask for Bedwyr to be less Bedwyr? She wasn’t sure if she actually wanted that. In fact, she didn’t even know what she was thinking about anymore. That probably wasn’t a good sign. Her thoughts were in such disarray it was ridiculous, this little ‘excursion’ to set it right making it even worse.

“Never mind,” she dismissed the thought with a brusque wave, lifting the cappuccino to her mouth once more in an effort to force the drink down her -,” –ow- --!”

It probably wasn’t a good idea to scull a scalding-hot beverage, the momentary surprise causing her hand to jerk, and sloshing the liquid all over her hands – almost tipping the entire drink down her front. The cup hit the table with an obnoxiously loud ‘thonk’, a small puddle of coffee pooling at its base. She had thought it’d cooled down enough – apparently not. And now her tongue was burnt. Lovely.

Chalk another misfortune up onto the board – she’d need a new one pretty soon.

“Ugh, hey, can you reach for the ser-,” What was she even asking? The napkins were within arms reach from both of them,” wait, no I got it.”

She did her best shot at attempting to clean up the mess with the serviettes, but they were still, well, paper napkins. Setting aside the soggy and stained items with a sigh, she resisted the overpowering urge to just wipe her still-sticky hands on the chair or something.

Well, her day was off to a great start. Really.

[Bedwyr]

“You didn’t have to accompany me out, you know.”

It wasn’t a question. There weren’t questions anymore… what he had done last night, he didn’t deserve to accompany her anyways.

“Look, I’m perfectly safe here.”

Merlin had berated him. Merlin, of all people. On the lack of loyalty, and he had deserved that beratement. He hated to admit that he had prayed that Amaranta would forgive him, but as he did not deserve such forgiveness, he was not forgiven.

“Can’t you just… go… do…”

He had actually run out of count on the number of times he had failed her. It was certainly not trackable on one hand, most likely not even both of his. There should have been no need to count. And there was no where she could send him. Nowhere he could really go to leave her in peace.

“Can’t you, I don’t know. Be less…” And after a pause “Never mind.”

And not only that, but he could not will himself away, could not disappear forever again, as long as the threats he had so failed to protect Amaranta from still existed. She even lacked words now, as they had spent a whole night in silence. Of course. Why would she want to talk to the man who had almost caused her to die?

She spilled her drink, a burning hot concoction that made the place they were sitting in smell actually particularly pleasant. People served them regularly, and Amaranta’s was far from the only one in the building. Upon first entering the shop, he had almost found himself wanting one, although that was now one of the furthest thoughts from his mind.

…

He just let her clean it up herself, unsure as to what she wanted him to do.

There was the jacket on his back to clean it up with, but she had shown distress at the tears it bore after the disastrous events of yesterday afternoon that seemed to be a regular topic. Had there been innocent fatalities? He… didn’t know. There were surely some to the beasts he had fought off, but had he killed instead of saved?

That collapse had not been what he was expecting. Nothing to do with this war was going as he expected. Nothing. He was a battle lord of Britain, and yet there was nothing even remotely in his experience to as how this war was turning out already.

His Master rejected him. Twice. He rode with her, she rejected him again. They fought another Servant-Master pair, he lost that fight, and badly. She almost died because of him. Beasts, beasts that should have long since vanished from this age appeared and he fought them alongside Amaranta. He singlehandedly brought down a massive storage facility, on accident while Amaranta was still inside. She almost died because of him. He fought the shadowy Servant again, once again failing to land a single blow, and sent Amaranta after its Master where she had been near fatally stabbed. She almost died because of him. He greeted Merlin… as Arturia… first, not even looking to her safety, and left her to bleed out. She almost died because of him. He ran, and left her on a storehouse floor, snapping in rage, and once again leaving her at the wound’s mercy. She almost died because of him.

She almost died because of him.

Again and again. Really, why had he even been so confident in the first place. His second life was a series of misfortunes, and not for him, but for her.

Had his first life been like that? There were of course thinks he could have done differently for her of course, but Mordred’s betrayal? Could he have seen it coming? Should he have seen it coming?

…

His sword hand itched. That was not something he wanted to dwell on.

…

He had no words for her. Nothing. He simply got up, and took towels from another table with a curt nod. She had been looking at her hands in distaste. They were covered in her drink, and there were none of the remaining papers to clean her hands.

…

Still no words that he could say. An apology would seem baseless, useless, insincere, and a thousand other things. Well there was one thing.

“I will take my leave now, Amaranta.” She was right, it was daytime. She would not be assaulted now. If he were not so restrained, he would seek out the shade, and destroy every fibre of him, to win. And then disappear, his job done, and there was no need to endanger her any longer.

That could still happen. He did have his wish… but she was not suited for this war. And while sacrifices were necessary sometimes, getting his own liege killed was not a sacrifice he was willing to make, even if she were not her.

But she did not need him in the daytime. He only brought trouble, but he would not be too far away in case the… beasts… struck again. Across the street should suffice.

So he simply stood up, bowed his head and left.

[Ahwang Kongju]

“Un None Straniero…” Ahwang heard her Master saying that foreign name while she puts on this new hair décor, that he bought for her, on her violet hair. "It looks boring, but let's try that place." she nodded as they enter.

But once she first step into the café, she senses something.

A Servant, perhaps.

She looked around, trying to track down the Servant, before they found a perfect table for them.

Despite sitting by the window that has a good view outside, Ahwang continues to scan across the room.

That’s when she spotted a blonde man with the orange-haired girl, who just spilled her cup. She turned to Zack when she heard him chuckle and tilt her head at him. She doesn’t understand why Zack find it funny, but possibly that just the way he is that she dismissed that thought. However, because of the attention from those two people there, it could mean one thing. That man over there is definitely a Servant, either a Saber or Rider, but she's still unsure what Servant Class he's in; and the girl with him could be his Master.

“Coffee, and tea. One of each, please.” That what she heard her Master order from the waiter when she still focus on the couples.

She turned to her Master to inform him, “Zack, I sense a Servant here in this place.” she whispered as she turns back to focus the two before facing Zack again, “Right there, and that girl with him could be his Master.” Moments later, their orders finally arrives.

She turned to the two one last time, and picked up her cup of Black Tea and sniffs it. Such an amazing aroma. She cooled down the tea by blowing away the steam, and took a sip from it, and smiled from the blissful taste. It’s delicious, yet a little familiar. The taste reminded her of Korea’s hongcha, the Red Tea, and also her home. She missed her home, and she wondered what Korea is like right now after her death. After taking another sip, she turned to the other Servant, who is now leaving the café, leaving his Master alone here.

“He’s leaving…” she whispered.

She then noticed her Master got up from his seat, she blinks. “Zack?” She saw him gesturing to her to follow him. Not sure what he’s going to do right now, she decided to follow Zack, who is walking up to the girl. The Master. Ahwang then starts to wonder what her Master is planning to do.

“Well, well, well." He said to the orange-haired girl, "I wouldn't expect such a pretty thing to participate in such a troublesome massacre."

[Zack Smith]

[Funny thing happened, and I had to rewrite the post I had written. So yeah, here you go. A less crappy version of the post I have written two days ago. Yes, I felt free to cheat and take parts of Ahwang's post.]

He had to admit that touring the small girl that was supposed to be his Servant around the city of Lucca was quite the new experience for him. It wasn't exactly as unpleasant as he had thought earlier during the morning, where he literally had to fight just so he could get up from bed at 0630 hours and leaving thirty minutes afterward. In fact, he found it quite relaxing even if the weather didn't show itself as being very good; it appeared that it was going to rain the next day if he went with the weather forecast's predictions.

Around an hour and a half into the tour, Zack decided to cut the trip short by dragging Assassin along into some twisted shopping spree where, curiously, the usual roles when it came to gender were reversed. The reason why he did so was due to the fact that the girl had nothing to wear except her shamanic robes and the spare clothes he had lent her. Wanting for her to live as normal as possible, the only viable solution for the complete lack of outfits was to buy some. Clothing, accessories, garments... The redheaded Enforcer, under his usual bored expression, found himself secretly enjoying dressing his Servant up into various outfits as they got to many different stores. Especially in a suit, even if the formal wear wasn't exactly the most suited thing for a petite girl such as Ahwang Kongju. Nearly half an hour was spent until the man decided that he had bought enough, and with two bags filled with accessories and clothing the pair finally left the last establishment.

Once they got outside, Zack took the time to take a small glance at his wristwatch. It was quickly approaching nine in the morning, meaning that they had spent nearly two hours outside of his appartment. "I guess now is the good time for a break, right?" He wondered aloud as he sweeped the streets with a teal gaze, looking for a shop or a restaurant that they could relax at. Zack's eyes stopped at the sight of a small establishment that could very well be a café. From an outsider's look, it appeared that the place was practically exhuding «I'm so plain, but please come anyway» due to its plain-coloured light brown brick walls and the old, darker door that ornated the entrance. The only thing worthy of note to the man's eyes was the sign that sat on top of the door, the name to be more precise. "Un Nome Straniero." The Italian rolled out of the man's lips as he read aloud what was written on the wooden sign. A red eyebrow was raised as he mentally translated the name into his native language. A Foreign Name... How original. The remark, translated as an internal thought, was sarcastic as Zack noted the clear lack of originality and inspiration the one who came up with the establishment's name had. Nevertheless, it was probably the only thing that caught his attention when he looked around. "It looks boring, but let's try that place." He told Assassin, looking at the girl as she delicately placed the new hair decor he bought for her on her purple mane.

The coffee shop's interior design was very different from what it looked like from the outside. Looking from, again, an outsider's eyes the place didn't look like it had enough patrons to get by, but once someone got inside the initial opinion would be quickly proven to be false. It wasn't as if it had the most luxurious look of the whole Italian coffee chain, but the place could be considered as lovely. "Not so bad after all..." Were the words that Zack said upon entering the small establishment and heading for the best place they could sit at, a table with an outside view.

Shortly after sitting down and wondering what to pick the duo was greeted by one of the waitresses that worked in the coffee shop. As expected of such an establishment, the young woman's outfit didn't show itself to be extraordinary. It was a simple, standard uniform that consisted of a shirt of the very same colour the brick wall outside exposed and a similarily coloured pair of pants. If Zack had anything to comment on the uniform it would be that it went very well with her hair, styled into a ponytail with the help of an elastic. The woman, after a short exchange of greetings between her customers and herself, asked for their orders.

"Coffee, and tea. One of each, please." Zack said with the friendliest voice he could muster, smiling as he told the types of drinks he wanted. Responding with that very same stretch of lips, the waitress left their table to attend her duties her job demanded. Watching her go, Zack couldn't help but change his opinion about the choice of uniforms. On a slightly perverted train of thoughts, I may tell you. Train of thoughts that was, unfortunately for the red-haired lazy bum, interrupted by the sound of Assassin's soft voice.

"A Servant, hm?" He whispered back, his face turning a little more serious. According to the girl, one of her kindred spirits was around their location. More precisely, in that same coffee shop they were currently in. Following the direction her indigo gaze pointed at, Zack saw the subjects of her observations. There was, seated at a table in the corner of the room, a couple consisting of a tall-looking blonde effeminate gloomy man that was presumed to be the Servant and a shorter orange-haired grumpy plain-looking young woman who was, as well, presumed to be the one who held the leash. From the looks of it, the atmosphere they shared in their own little world appeared to be quite the sad one, as if something went terribly wrong. "I see."

Now that he thought of it, he remembered seeing those two back when he entered the coffee shop with Assassin. It was granted, considering the noise the bespectacled girl made by spilling a good part of her coffee with a high-pitched wince. The sight, even though it would usually make someone wince as they shared their pain with the orange, had provoked a slight chuckle from Zack to Ahwang's apparent confusion. He handwaved it shortly after, saying that it was the way he was.

So that girl is one of the many Masters in this whole game, huh? That was the last thing he thought before the return of the lovely waitress with the ponytail in a brown uniform who came to bring their orders of a pair of cups, each with a different hot and steamy concoction that filled their shape. The young woman left after being thanked for her work, punctuated with a quick wink coming from the Enforcer. With that, Zack took his cup of black coffee in hand and took a testing sip after softly blowing on the hot liquid. "It's not bad at all." He commented on the bitter taste his drink had. A bitter, caffeine-filled taste brought quite the good news to Zack's senses, and it appeared to have quite the same effect on Ahwang's mood who blissfully sipped at her cup of black tea.

"He's leaving..." She was probably talking about that effeminate Servant since Zack saw him leave through the exit of Un Nome Straniero, leaving only the sound of the door's chimes behind him.

The sight of the tall man leaving the store gave him, in some weird twisted way or another that few people could manage, the sudden idea of getting acquainted with the grumpy young woman. After all, it wasn't very often that he saw someone as young as that girl was participating in an event such as the Holy Grail war. He might as well get to know her before she died an early death by the hand of one of the other participants, excluding himself as he was uninterested in such murderous actions.

Getting up from his seat with his cup of coffee in hand, Zack gestured at his Servant to follow him to the girl's table after placing the two clothes-filled bags on his chair. The way he traveled from his table to hers was, like usual for him, very nonchalantly. Slow, seemingly uninterested about the world that surrounded him and Assassin, Zack made his way toward the corner of the store where an orange-haired girl was sitting at. "Hey." He made his presence known to his fellow Master and raised his free hand in greetings. Acting as if he was a friend of hers, Zack took one of the chairs remaining and sat in front of the girl, with Ahwang sitting at the other. He placed his cup of coffee on the hard surface of the table.

"Well, well, well." He contemplated his next words with a casual grin, as if wanting to get a reaction or two from the orange-haired girl. "I wouldn't have expected such a pretty thing to participate in such a troublesome massacre."

[Emma Bastillo]

Amaranta mutely took the serviettes, nodding in mute gratitude towards Bedwyr. By then, the coffee had already stained into the tablecloth, leaving an ugly brown splotch in the middle of the white linen. Amaranta sighed, and started wiping her hands with the napkins, removing most of the coffee.

So now her hands weren't wet and sticky; they were dry and sticky. A wonderful start to her day off.

Meanwhile, Bedwyr continued to watch her with that same, forbidding gaze, no doubt still styling himself as her protector. At this point, though, it was almost as if Rider's presence attracted trouble, instead of deterred it.

...What was she thinking? 'As if'? Rider was a damned weirdness magnet. There was no doubt about it. Amaranta was perfectly content with the day-to-day grind of waking up, going to University, studying, and going to bed. Not... all this.

Amaranta's eyes flitted from her netbook's monitor to meet Bedwyr's gaze briefly. “Ye-es?” She asked waspishly, perhaps a bit too coldly.

Bedwyr quickly averted his gaze, shamefacedly looking down and to the side. “I will take my leave now, Amaranta.”

“Mhmmm,” Amaranta nodded curtly, eyes flicking back to the news. Something about dozens of hobos being massacred around a warehouse two days ago. She was still at a loss for words. What would she say now? Thank Bedwyr for quickly picking up on her thoughts? Throw the knight a bone and tell him to stick around? I mean, how do you deal with a centuries old knight who lived and died by an outdated set of rules, who still had his head stuck firmly in the past? This was no longer a time of damsels and shining knights and monsters.

…
…

Well, monsters were still there. The ghost of Amaranta's stab wound uncomfortably attested to that fact, as did the memories of that warehouse. Which... Amaranta quickly shoved to the back of her mind. No need to bring that up again.

She was spared the necessity of fumbling for words when Bedwyr rose, gave her a waist-high bow, and, with the air and dignity of a wounded puppy, strode out.

…Well, at least Amaranta could, at the very least, pretend that her day off was as normal a day as any other. No crazy shadow men looking to stab her in the face, no ravening monsters looking to bite her face off. Just her, her netbook, and her spilled coffee.

However, as Bedwyr left the cafe, a man in a suit rose from his table. Initially, Amaranta barely spared him a glance. As he purposely weaved his way through the small tables, not towards the exit, but to her, the college student paid him more attention, eyes multitasking between the news (now saying something about arson in Ponte a Moriano) and the redhead. Last week, she would have hoped that he would be going for some lady behind her.

Now? She knew to expect the worst. Luck and chance did not favor her. Obviously. Indeed, the man slid into the chair across from hers with a relaxed calm, as if Amaranta had been reserving the seat for him. Just after Bedwyr had left too. As if he had been watching her. He certainly made her uneasy enough, set her stomach roiling uncomfortably.

...A stalker.

Great.

Amaranta sighed again. If the man wanted to talk, then she would let him. What else would she do? Scream assault? She folded up her laptop, sliding it into the plush case – catching sight of a small, white-haired girl. Amaranta blinked. Walking in pairs. Like Master and Servant. So, either he was a normal stalker who was trying to build himself a harem, or he was another Master.

Amaranta did not quite know which option she preferred. She already had one stalker in upper secondary school, some guy by the name of Maxwell, and she had no desire to repeat that experience. But on the other hand, she wanted to get further entangled in this Grail War thing even less.

"Well, well, well. I wouldn't have expected such a pretty thing to participate in such a troublesome massacre.”

…

Guess that question was answered for her.

Amaranta remained silent as she slipped the covered laptop into her totebag, before turning back to the man in the suit. And his ridiculous hairstyle. Bedwyr had the excuse of adhering to millennia-old fashion styles. This guy did not.

“What do you want,” Amaranta asked flatly, cutting to the core of the matter.